Barbecue

The Easter holiday just flew by. Four days. Four gloriously sunny days. With that said, no one cared about the exceptional, almost too good to be true weather as much as they cared about the barbecue.

The first time I had barbecue was at a party. Quite naturally. Barbecue always go hand in hand with a crowd. Our revelry by the fire today is an instinctive commemoration of the fire that engulfed the forest god knows how many years ago, killing all deer and dinosaurs, and taught us human how to eat.

So we celebrate. Taking a break from our battered Deliveroo and non-stick pan and head out to the sun. And cook with fire.

There is something about cooking with fire and watching food being cooked with fire. The thrill that it gives, seeing the theatric smoke curling, trailing and rising from the garden. The oaky smell wafting in the outdoor. So primitive. So humanly.

Barbecue makes one feel omnipresent. The joy of taming an element that could easily go out of control. Being patient with the flame, flipping and serving slabs of meat straight from the gritty rusty grills to the plates. Making the whole village giddy with contentment.

Then again, I am never one who would volunteer to man the barbecue. No chance, because I can’t. I’m short. My face would be too close to the grill. I could burn my face, then watch everyone else’s food gone up in smoke. Might as well have sushi.

So, over the bank holidays, we sat around the table, shaded by a big umbrella, drinking, chatting and sinking our teeth into sweet delicious meat until the sun came down and everyone’s drained of energy.. Then woke up the next day and did it all over again.

That’s it really. Pretty self-explanatory – why barbecue always goes hand in hand with a crowd. Because it’s not about what goes onto the grill. It’s about connection. Connecting with our most primal needs – to be fed, and to be together.

Man with fire. Man with man.

With love x

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